


Safe in his Arms

by Ayngelcat



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngelcat/pseuds/Ayngelcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Smokescreen's 'affair' with Breakdown in Season 2. Also inspired by many nights of RP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe in his Arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [naboru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/gifts).



Smokescreen’s doorwings twitched as he reassembled the disruptor gun, panels glinting eerily in the dim light, his optics glowing very blue. The air was heavy in the deserted building, damp and uncomfortable. But Breakdown could not keep the fierce affection from his spark, or the longing in his circuits, as he watched the Autobot work; the one who everyone said was ‘more like a Con in some ways.’

Nevertheless, the Stunticon kept an optic warily on the closed door to the windowless room, not trusting the blanket of smoke in the passage which the Autobot had said would give any intruders a ‘welcoming present.’ He could not; for amid the moan of wind and rain and the drip drip of water as it leaked through the ceiling in the corner, Breakdown could hear footsteps, well disguised and mingling with the sound, but present none the less, together with the rasping intakes of whoever was headed their way.

Breakdown tore his optics from the door, trying to concentrate instead on the complicated bits of the rifle, and Smokescreen’s cleverness in putting them together. He took a deep intake, like Smokescreen had told him to. No, there were no Decepticons stalking him, sending hushed messages to Motormaster which blended with the other sounds. No cackled of laughter and secret transmissions: “We found him. And he’s with an Autobot!”

Fear gripped the Stunticon. To Motormaster it made no difference to that Smokescreen might be ’different.’ The punishment would be the same.

There was a loud squawk and scritching on the roof, then of wings flapping. Breakdown’s circuits jarred. Fear ripped through him, and he nearly offlined with shock. Intakes heaving, he was on his feet in an instant.

"I really should get back!“ He stammered. “You’re nice, Smokescreen. But we’re really not meant to be together. It’s – it’s not in my programming!”

But he did not leave, instead staring at the doorway with wide optics as over the sound of the rain he definitely heard – oh yes there was no doubt about it now – something creeping their way. It was one of Soundwave’s minions for sure. Using some dastardly cloaking device though which Breakdown could not detect a signature. “They’re coming for me!” he gasped.

…………

The gun was a hassle to put together. But it was worth the trouble – even if only to reassure the Stunticon that they would be protected. And so they would! Any unwelcome visitors would soon find themselves stumbling in a daze of ruptured equilibrium – if they weren’t already from the smoke. They’d certainly be too busy wondering what in the pit had happened to speculate on whether a bot and a con in the same building might have been making out.

A pity, if it was somebody who was ‘all right’ - or even if it wasn’t. Smokescreen’s Autobot empathy programming still made his circuits squirm at the thought of another’s discomfort. But it was worth it, to have Breakdown. Worth the risk, the trek through the rain, the damp building, and every minuscule component of the darned fiddly inner workings of the gun.

Smokescreen smiled to himself, delighted by the presence of the Stunticon, relieved that Breakdown had ‘settled down.’ His circuits fritzed at the thought of holding him in his arms, of running his hands over the smooth blue and white panels, of gazing at the beautiful face before he kissed him, deeply; even if all this was going to have to happen on the dry bit of the chilly stone floor and not – as would have been rather better – in a comfortable berth. Still, Smokescreen surmised, if he could just figure out a way to smuggle Breakdown past Red Alert’s devices and back into the base ....

There was an Earth bird noise from the roof; and now Breakdown was on his feet, all wound up again. Smokescreen clicked the last component into place and got up, securing the canon on to the shoulder mount, programming ‘standby’ mode. Then he strode over to the stricken Stunticon.

…………..

“Relax,” Smokescreen was saying. But Breakdown pushed him away. How could he be so complacent? “It’s Lazerbeak!” he gasped. “And Ravage. Soundwave’s out there. And all the other Decepticons and everyone! They’ll get me and take me back and then Vortex ‘ll get me an’ then …”

But he found himself drawn in to the Autobot’s warm metal, his face pushed into Smokescreen‘s shoulder, strong arms around him as his helm was gently caressed. “Then they’ll have to take me too,” Smokescreen murmured. “And then I’ll have to call in the Autobots and they’ll have to come and rescue me. And then that new base Megatron’s building that I’m not supposed to know about would get levelled, wouldn’t it? I’d have to tell them the only way it wouldn’t is they let us go. Wouldn’t I?”

It sounded so logical, so reassuring that Breakdown didn’t take in the exact words, could believe that it really would be all right.

“So no fretting,” Breakdown felt lips on his helm, the rubber of his shoulder tires caressed. “They would never get that far anyway. Trust me.” Breakdown melted into the touch, putting his arms around the Datsun. But he stiffened again as a gust of wind shook the building, shuddering at the loud moan which followed. Motormaster … he whimpered.

“Relax …. You’re safe with me." Smokescreen’s high performance engine throbbed reassuringly, and Breakdown felt suddenly comforted by its steady pulse. The arms tightened around him and there were more kisses to his helm as the rain hammered on the roof. Against all odds, he felt his systems calm. “Perhaps .... the storm?” he whispered.

“Yeah – see?” Smokescreen drew back, and then he was looking at Breakdown, a smile on his face and a mischievious glint in his optics, which were very blue and penetrating . But his expression was kindly, comforting. “Yeah l'il buddy - its just the storm,” he said. "Nothin' else." Breakdown believed him, giving in, relaxing and allowing himself to melt back into the Autobot’s arms.

.....

Smokescreen checked the weapons status and sent a command to the cannister release mechanism beyond the door, knowing more smoke would fill the lobby. As he drew the Stunticon into a passionate kiss, pushing him gently back against the wall and pressing against the inviting blue panels, he truly hoped he was right – about all of it.

But if he wasn’t – well he’d cross that bridge when he had to. One way of the other, they would get through it. Like everything else in life, it was a gamble. But the stakes were worth it. And Smokescreen always won.

Well - this time he would, anyway. Of that, he was absolutely determined.


End file.
